


Fragments of Memory

by starkly



Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1324321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkly/pseuds/starkly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their l’Cie brands are more than just marks. They’re a promise. (13 snippets from Vanille and Fang’s pre-game past.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fragments of Memory

**Author's Note:**

> I realized there's only like 40 Fang/Vanille fics on this site so I figured I'd add my own to the mix even though it's kinda old.
> 
> Originally written/posted on my LJ @ June 2011 and un-beta'd. Not canon compliant with any of the sequels. (Because I don't think XIII-2 had even come out yet.) I took large liberties with the general timeline (especially their ages) and with bits of Oerban society.

**i.**

They first meet in the orphanage, like so many others have. One is scared and lonely, the other angry. It doesn’t take long for all of that to go away, if at least for a little while.

“M’Vanille,” the tiny girl in pink says sheepishly, smiling. “What’s your name?”

The other girl, taller and calmer, looks down at Vanille with a curious expression on her face. “Fang.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Fang,” Vanille says, and holds out her hand. Fang takes it tentatively, as if expecting Vanille to break her fingers. But she doesn’t, of course. Vanille shakes Fang’s hand enthusiastically, much too eagerly for someone who’s just lost their parents.

Fang just nods, releasing Vanille’s hand. She stands there, unsure whether she should walk away now or say something else. Vanille doesn’t let her make that decision, however, as she grabs Fang’s hand once more.

“You’ve been here longer, right?” she asks, squeezing Fang’s hand sympathetically — she may be older, but she’s still just a child. “Could you show me around, please?”

And instead of pulling away and leaving like anyone would expect, Fang kept Vanille’s hand in her own, tugging her further into their new home.

 

**ii.**

It’s kind of cute, how Vanille tags along after Fang like a puppy almost immediately. It takes some getting used to, but soon Fang has accepted the younger girl as an everyday fixture in her life. There are some things you just can’t avoid.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Mother asks her one day. Mother was what the children at the orphanage called the woman in charge. She was as close to a mother as they had by this time.

Fang tears her eyes away from the game going on across the yard to look at Mother. Vanille was skipping rope with some of the other children, leaving Fang to sit on the low stone wall surrounding the courtyard to watch them.

“Vanille is awfully attached to you,” Mother continues, sitting down beside Fang.

Fang shrugs. “I don’t mind. She’s nice.” Mother’s smiling at her, and Fang cocks her head in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing at all. I’m just glad the two of you have gotten on so well.” Mother puts a hand on Fang’s shoulder. “You weren’t exactly a model child before Vanille got here.”

“What, you want an apology?”

Mother laughs, the skin crinkling underneath her eyes. “Not at all, my dear. Not at all.”

And she leaves Fang to sit and contemplate her words alone on the wall.

 

**iii.**

Fang is perched up in the branches of a twisted, ancient tree behind the orphanage, strangely alone. It isn’t often that Vanille’s not two steps behind her. She picks at the bark with dirty fingernails, reveling in the feeling of peeling it off piece by piece. Her peaceful silence doesn’t last long, forever.

“You’re in trouble.” Vanille’s voice floats up through the branches, cheerful as you please. “Mother’s mad at you for picking fights with the other kids.”

“Don’t need to sound too happy about it,” Fang calls back down, snapping off a particularly large piece of bark and dropping it.

“I’m not happy you’re in trouble,” Vanille protests.

Fang frowns, peering down from her branch. Vanille’s beaming face stares back up at her. “Why, then?”

“You beat up that boy for making fun of me,” Vanille replies knowingly.

Fang scoffs, returning her focus to bark peeling. “Don’t be silly.”

When Vanille doesn’t respond, Fang chances another glance down the tree. Vanille’s hanging off a branch halfway from the top, scrambling to haul herself up with shaking arms.

“Hey, what’re you — ” Fang starts to climb down to help her before she accidentally kills herself, but Vanille snaps,

“No! I can do it.”

So Fang sits tight, waiting patiently for Vanille to make her way up the rest of the tree. After several minutes she finally does, settling in next to Fang to catch her breath. Fang watches her, curious why she had gone through all that trouble just to get up here.

“I wanted to say thank you,” Vanille explains at last, and leans over and kisses Fang on the cheek before the older girl can even think of a proper response. Fang thinks she might be blushing, but she’s never blushed before in her life, so she’s not sure. Vanille’s smiling, and Fang just stares, wondering why she never noticed Vanille’s smile before. It was so…

“Brilliant,” she mouths, before kissing Vanille on the lips.

 

**iv.**

“What do you mean, you want to fight in the war?”

Fang’s face is unreadable as always as she turns to look at Vanille, who is sitting on the edge of Fang’s bed like she just learned that it could spontaneously combust at any moment.

“I mean exactly what I said,” Fang replies, arms crossed over her chest.

“They’d never let you,” Vanille protests, looking distraught, and she finally hops off the bed, going over to stand in front of Fang. “Mother won’t let you go.”

“She’s not our real mother, she doesn’t control us,” Fang snaps, unable to look Vanille in the eyes. Vanille, who’d been her best — her only — friend in the time they’d been in the orphanage. Sweet, kind Vanille, who just couldn’t see why Fang was so determined about this. “Nothing can stop me from becoming a l’Cie.”

“But what if I don’t want you to.” Vanille’s eyes are downcast, and the tone of her voice causes Fang to look at her again.

“It’s not your decision to make,” Fang says with a sigh. “They took so much from us, destroyed our homes and our families — ”

“And gave me you,” Vanille whispers.

The words stop Fang, making her feel hesitant and unsure, just as she had been when she first met Vanille those many days ago. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she agrees. “But if you want to keep me around, this bloody war needs to end.”

“Hard to keep you around when you’re off fighting.”

Fang grins. “It’ll be pretty hard to kill me. Lady Luck will be on my side this time, I can feel it.”

Vanille’s expression is not as amused, however. “Your need for revenge blinds you.”

Fang shakes her head, stepping around Vanille and heading for the door. “I’m going to get dinner. You coming?”

Vanille follows, but only after a moment of unmoving silence. Fang lets her lead the way down to the dining room. Maybe she’d been wrong, Fang muses. Vanille knew exactly why Fang was so insistent about this, and that was why she was so unrelenting in trying to stop her.

 

**v.**

Fang’s the one to suggest that they get a house of their own. Vanille likes the orphanage and is friends with most of the younger children there, but Fang convinces her that it’s time they finally move out. They can’t stay in the orphanage forever, and besides, it’s not like Vanille can’t come back to visit at any time.

Their new home isn’t anything too grand, but they like it well enough. Vanille spends the first several days adding homey touches around the place, putting up photographs and decorating walls. Fang would be content just to have Vanille sharing a place with her, but she has to admit that Vanille’s additions give the house a comforting quality.

Vanille’s new pet robot, on the other hand, is something Fang could gladly live without. It’s a shame that Vanille is so attached to the damn thing.

 

**vi.**

Vanille’s shriek has Fang out of bed faster than any alarm could have. Knife in hand, she bursts into Vanille’s room, right next door, and quickly scans the area for danger. Vanille’s sitting up in bed, breathing heavily, but other than that, she looks perfectly fine. Fang slowly lowers the knife, cautiously making her way to Vanille’s side and sitting beside her.

“I’m sorry if I startled you,” Vanille’s apologizing, taking a deep breath and then exhaling loudly. “It was just a bad dream.”

Fang drops the knife on the floor and wraps her arms tightly around Vanille. They’ve both grown a lot since they first arrived at the orphanage, but Vanille still feels too small in Fang’s arms. “I promised I’d always protect you,” Fang whispers, pressing a kiss to Vanille’s forehead.

“I can’t be protected from everything,” Vanille protests with a soft laugh, though her fingers dig into the fabric of Fang’s shirt.

“I can still damn well try.”

Vanille sighs into Fang’s shoulder. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

They spend the rest of the night curled into each other on Vanille’s bed, Fang stroking Vanille’s hair gently and rubbing soothing circles into her back until they both fall asleep.

 

**vii.**

Fang never spent much time in the orphanage’s kitchen, and even here she left most of the cooking to Vanille. It all seems less complicated when you aren’t the one doing the cooking. Thus she was now rethinking her plan to do something nice for Vanille by bringing her breakfast in bed. Going a different route might be safer, but unfortunately, she’d already started and was much too proud to back down now. So she trudges onward, and if the eggs are a little burnt and rice too soggy, well, Vanille can deal with it.

Things are going as smoothly as they possibly can when Vanille shows up in the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” she asks curiously, lured in by the smell of what might either be breakfast or a new kind of pest repellant, she can’t quite tell.

“Go back to bed,” Fang orders her, not turning around. She couldn’t chance taking her eyes off the food for a second.

“But — ”

“I said back in bed!”

Vanille hesitantly moves back towards the doorway, hovering for a moment longer. “Do you need any help?”

“Vanille!”

Vanille scurries back into her bedroom and sits down on her bed, waiting impatiently for Fang to come and explain what had gotten into her. When Fang finally does arrive, she’s carrying a large tray stacked with food, a single flower in a vase standing as decoration. Vanille can’t help but be surprised.

“What’s this for?” she asks as Fang slowly walks over and sets the tray down on the bed in front of Vanille.

“Nothing in particular.” Fang sits down on the other side of the tray, watching Vanille while trying not to look too eager. “I don’t know how much of this is edible, so I made a lot.”

Vanille smiles, reaching over and squeezing Fang’s hand. “I’ll eat anything you make me, edible or not.”

“I don’t know if I should let you to do that,” Fang admits. “I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself if I poisoned you.”

“It’ll be fine,” Vanille assures her. “The only question is what to eat first.”

In the end, all Vanille suffered was a minor stomachache from eating too much food. Both of them were pleasantly surprised.

 

**viii.**

“Fang!”

Fang hears Vanille’s approach before she sees it, and when she looks up, she’s showered with kisses across her face and neck.

“Calm down!” Fang exclaims, but she’s smiling, kissing back when she can, and when Vanille finally steps back, she can’t help but be a little disappointed. She sets down the book she had been reading before Vanille interrupted. “What’s the big occasion?”

Vanille makes a face that is both amused and exasperated. “Have you already forgotten your birthday?”

“That’s what I have you for,” Fang teases, holding out her hand. Vanille offers her own unconsciously, and Fang kisses the back of it softly.

“What would you do without me?” Vanille says with a grin, taking back her hand so she can cup Fang’s face and pull her close for a real kiss. It goes on for quite some time, the complete opposite of the timid, embarrassed kisses of their earlier days. But all good things come to an end eventually.

“So? Have you decided what you want as a gift?” Vanille asks, lips ghosting across Fang’s as she speaks. Fang answers by biting down on Vanille’s lower lip, coaxing a quiet, pleased hum from the back of Vanille’s throat. Her hands shift in the process, one slipping up Vanille’s skirt and the other splayed low across her stomach.

“That’s it?” Vanille raises an eyebrow, though the effect is dampened by the fact that she seems somewhat out of breath. “You didn’t have to waste your birthday present on that, you know.”

They’re kissing again, and this time it seems like they never stop.

 

**ix.**

The argument is over in two simple sentences.

“I want to become a l’Cie.”

“Vanille — ”

“Look, I want to protect you just as much as you want to protect me.”

“…Fine.”

Fang always had a hard time saying “no” to Vanille.

 

**x.**

They’ve seen l’Cie brands before, but the sight of the marks on their own skin is new and unsettling. Tomorrow, they start training for war. Tonight, they lie together on Fang’s bed, Vanille staring up at the ceiling while Fang kisses a path down her chest and stomach, watching the slow, repetitive motions of the curve of her skin as Vanille breathes. She slides lower down, and while Vanille arches expectantly upwards, Fang pulls away instead, sitting back on her heels and pressing Vanille’s knees together instead of apart. Vanille props herself up on her elbows, curious.

Fang’s fingertips outline the brand on Vanille’s hip.

“It’s kind of pretty,” Vanille says, trying to assuage the angry thoughts she knows Fang must be having.

“It’s a countdown,” Fang retorts, covering the mark with her palm. “A timer.”

“It won’t get that far.” There’s a confident note in her voice, but Fang’s hand clenches and her fingers dig into the skin around the brand.

“You saw our Focus.” 

Vanille is silent. 

“Do you really think you’re capable of that.”

There’s a steel in Vanille’s eyes that only comes out on a few occasions — when talking about protecting Fang and their home. “For you, yes.”

Fang sighs, releasing her grip on Vanille’s leg. The redhead sits up, reaching out and taking Fang’s arm, pulling her closer. She kisses Fang’s brand right in the center. “This is a promise,” Vanille declares, “your mark, and mine.”

Fang takes Vanille in her arms, holding her tightly, and repeats, “A promise.”

 

**xi.**

“I’m going to fight this one alone.”

Fang stops running, twisting in one smooth motion to look directly at Vanille. Her spear twitches in her hand. “You’ve got to be joking.”

Vanille shakes her head. On the other side of the valley, the bear roars, thundering towards them with teeth flashing. Fang glances at it, then at Vanille’s determined expression, and nods. 

Vanille rushes past her to meet the bear head on, casting a Slow spell as she runs. The effects are immediate as the bear’s pace is reduced, and the creature roars again, confused and irate. But Vanille is already charging up her next attack, letting loose a flurry of ice shards that whirl through the air. They hit the bear dead on, who stumbles as the ice shatters over its tough hide. It’s close enough now that Vanille can reach it with her rod, and with a flick of her wrist she sends the wired hooks flying.

But the bear is ready this time, turning so that the hooks hit its side and not its face. One of the hooks catch, but it doesn’t do much expect irritate the bear even more. Vanille dives to the side, rolling around the bear as it lunges for her. She can see Fang making a move to go help her, and she shouts,

“I can handle this!”

Fang stops, clearly annoyed, but she stays where she is, muscles tensed to leap into action at any moment. The words bring to mind that day some time ago, when Vanille had stopped her from helping her climb up that tree.

The bear’s reeling around now, and Vanille casts as many debuffs as she can on the animal. Several miss, having nothing to affect, but she feels one spell in particular catch. The Daze magic staggers the bear, putting him off balance and giving her enough time to launch another attack, this time at close-range. The air crackles with electricity as Vanille summons all her energy into the Thunder spell, and the sharp crack of lightning is heard as she releases it towards the bear. It hits with a crashing boom, and electricity dances through the creature’s body, making its hair stand up on end. With one final growl, the bear collapses, unmoving.

Vanille takes a deep breath and exhales, stepping forward to inspect the bear. It appears to be thoroughly dead, and she can’t control her grin as Fang appears beside her.

“I did it,” she says, strangely calm. 

Fang puts an arm around her shoulder, kissing the top of her head. “You did,” she replies proudly. “Teach me to doubt you.”

Vanille giggles, still relishing the unfamiliar high of victory. “I kind of wish I could have a souvenir. Just as a reminder to mark the occasion, you know?”

“I think I know the perfect thing,” Fang says, eyeing the bear’s slightly singed fur. “Let’s see if brown looks good on you.”

 

**xii.**

They head to war with little fanfare. Training has been rushed, imperfect, as the fal’Cie are quick to push Fang and Vanille into the fray on account of their Focus. With the power the girls have been handed, they don’t need much training otherwise.

Vanille hugs her knees closer to her chest as a cool breeze swirls through their campsite. Cocoon is close, so close, and she isn’t sure she wants it to get any closer. Fang sticks her spear into the dirt besides the fire, and it glows in the firelight like some strange grave marker.

“We’ll do it tomorrow,” she announces, though there’s no one there except Vanille. She kneels down and checks Vanille’s brand as she talks, making sure it hasn’t advanced any farther. “I don’t want to risk putting it off longer.”

Vanille keeps quiet and nods, still staring up at Cocoon. From here it seems so small, completely harmless. They’d been told it was a place of wickedness and evil, created by a powerful devil. The longer the war went on, however, Vanille wasn’t sure what to believe anymore.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” she mutters, ignoring Fang’s fussing over her brand. “How can only the two of us destroy a whole world…”

“Anima has gifted us with the power. Do not worry about it,” Fang reassures her, sitting down beside Vanille and looping an arm around her shoulders fondly. “I believe in you.”

Nodding, Vanille nestles further against the comforting lines of Fang’s body, wishing she could say the same about herself.

 

**xiii.**

She couldn’t do it. She shouldn’t be surprised, but she can’t stop the tears that form as she sees what Fang’s become without her. Vanille drops to her knees, weapon clattering uselessly to the ground beside her. The half-formed Ragnarok roars and looks at her once, a gaze that Vanille can’t meet, before disappearing into the sky to complete its Focus.

She had let everyone down: Anima, Gran Pulse, her village, but most of all, Fang. Fang needed her and she wasn’t there. She had let Fang shoulder this terrible burden alone. Her tears trace thin paths down the dust and grime on her cheeks. When she sees Fang again — if she ever sees Fang again, she corrects herself with a half-choked, gasping breath — she won’t be able to look her in the eye. And the worst part was that Fang would undoubtedly forgive her.

Cocoon’s shell starts to crumble, and Vanille can see pieces of it fall away, tumbling through the sky to hit the land below. Vanille feels the vibrations resonate throughout her entire body. Cocoon’s warriors converge on the area where Ragnarok is attacking, while Vanille is torn between looking away and not being able to even blink lest she miss something important.

Then everything stops. The fighting, the l’Cie, Ragnarok, everything. Vanille scrambles to her feet, running towards the conflict without question, though she knows she is unable to reach any of them. Wreckage no longer falls from Cocoon’s shell, and there is a strange glow coming from up above. Vanille yells Fang’s name desperately, but no one can hear her. She can barely hear herself over the commotion that currently masquerades as her thoughts, churning loud and wild and incoherent in her head. Somehow, Fang’s in front of her now, looking angry and dazed but otherwise unhurt, and Vanille’s fairly certain she’s never run this fast before in her life.

But she doesn’t make it. She feels it in her legs first, the sudden sensation of crystallization. From the look on Fang’s face, the same thing is happening to her, and Vanille shouts Fang’s name one last time before her friend is completely encased in crystal. Even as a statue, Vanille thinks Fang is unreservedly beautiful. There is only one thought left in her mind before she meets the same fate:

_We'll meet again someday._


End file.
